


phone a friend

by until_the_earth_is_free



Series: Peter Parker vs New York And Also The World [2]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Matt Murdock is a Good Bro, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-07-29
Packaged: 2018-12-08 16:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11649963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/until_the_earth_is_free/pseuds/until_the_earth_is_free
Summary: “Hello, kid,” said Matt’s voice, calm and bright.  “What’s happening?”“Everything,” Peter mumbled.[in which Peter suffers some more but it's okay because Matt Murdock is a good bro]





	phone a friend

**Author's Note:**

> by popular demand!!!!!!! another part to this series.  
> will make more sense if you've read the first part but idk live ur life  
> title from the iconic game show Who Wants To Be A Millionaire  
> it's 1 in the morning and i dont care about titles ok sue me
> 
> tw for panic attacks and delusion

 

                                                                                  

The next time it happened, there was no reason for it at all. 

Peter had woken up that morning feeling a little… off.  Like he’d slept with his neck in a weird position or something, except his neck hadn’t been hurting.  He hadn’t come home last night with any serious injuries, just a few bruises, so he shook it off as an anomaly.

School had been shit.  Peter hadn’t done as well as he would have hoped on his latest history quiz, and Flash had been behaving even more of an asshole as usual.  The only good part of his day had been having lunch with Ned and MJ, but even that had felt a bit awkward, since MJ hadn’t brought up kissing Peter _at all_ in the last week since it had happened.

And then, after school, Peter had changed into his spider-suit and gone on patrol, which should have made him feel better, but all it had done was make it harder to breathe.

Which was how, after having done _absolutely nothing whatsoever to help anyone today_ , Peter was sitting on the roof of a building in Manhattan, trying and failing to push some air back into his lungs.

“Karen,” he whispered.  “What’s happening?”

“You’re on the corner of Broadway and 57th street,” Karen replied.  “All vital functions are operating.  You are having a panic attack.”

“I’m not having a–”

“In, two, three, four,” Karen interrupted.  “Out, two, three, four.”

This was fucking stupid.  There was absolutely no reason for Peter to be panicking right now.  Nothing had happened.  He’d been specifically avoiding dark, confined spaces ever since the Dumpter Incident.

His shoulders started shivering.

“Karen,” Peter said, his breath rattling.  “Do a toxin screen.”

“Your system is clean of toxins,” Karen said.  “It appears you are having–”

“Don’t,” Peter gritted.  “Say panic attack.  Check again.”

He felt a wave of cold roll through his body.  His head felt so light and his body felt so, so heavy.  He looked off the roof and saw the street below bend and shrink.  He’d been poisoned and now he was going to die in Manhattan like some fucking prep.

Then he felt something warm grasp his shoulder.

“Don’t,” he wheezed, as someone dragged him away from the edge of the roof.

“Sorry, kid,” said a voice above him.  “But I can’t let you fall off a building on my turf.”

Peter looked up and saw the guy in red, Daredevil, looking down at him.

“Oh,” he said, weakly.  “It’s you.”

“How’s it going, Spider-Man?” Daredevil asked.

“Poisoned,” Peter said, between ragged breaths.

“Negative,” said a very loud Karen.  “Toxin screens are negative.  You are hyperventilating.”

Peter heard a sigh, and suddenly Daredevil was crouching in front of him.

“Breathe with me,” Daredevil instructed, taking Peter’s hand, and placing it on his own chest so Peter could feel Daredevil’s impressively low heartrate.

Peter tried to protest.

“I’m not having a–”

“You still need to breathe,” Daredevil interrupted.

Peter scowled, but he obliged, trying to match his breaths with Daredevil’s until his pulse had slowed down to a reasonable rate and Daredevil could let go of his hand.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Still feel like you’ve been poisoned?” Daredevil asked.

Peter grimaced.

“No,” he admitted.

“Are you feeling… alright?” Daredevil asked.

“Yeah, I’m great!” Peter replied, voice cracking.  Which was totally from the hormone shots and not from a stitch in his side from breathing funny earlier.

Daredevil frowned and made a very Aunt-May-like humming noise.

“I’m fine,” Peter told him, thankful that his voice stayed level this time.

“I’m worried about you, kid,” Daredevil said.  “Every time I run into you, you sound like you’re wrestling death out of your lungs.”

That was a weird way of phrasing it but this guy was also wearing devil horns and some sort of eye bandana so Peter wasn’t really expecting a normal conversation.

“I’m _fine_ ,” Peter repeated.

“Do you have someone you can talk to?” Daredevil demanded.

“Yes,” Peter replied, somewhat offended.  “I do have friends.”

Daredevil pursed his lips.

“I know Peter has friends,” he said.  “But does Spider-Man?”

“Uh,” said Peter, as Daredevil handed him a business card printed with just a phone number and what seemed to be a Braille translation underneath.

“If Spider-Man ever needs someone to talk to,” he explained.  “Call, don’t text.”

And then he did an unnecessary backflip off the roof of the building.

Peter looked down at the business card and realised that he should ask Mr Stark to install a pocket into his spider-suit.

 

 

 

 

 

Peter was doing fine.  Considering he single-handedly took down a supervillain’s evil weapon manufacturing company and still managed to get his calculus homework in on time a few weeks ago, he was actually doing spectacularly.

Spider-Man, on the other hand, wasn’t doing too hot.  Something about wearing the suit and fighting crime made Peter feel alive, like he was playing a video game with the highest possible graphics quality.  Unfortunately, the low buzz that seemed to be constantly thrumming in the back of Peter’s mind also became louder in the suit.  Which was fine.  It wasn’t ideal, but it was something Peter could deal with, as long as he remembered to breathe.

But then, like basically every other aspect of Peter’s life, everything was fine until it wasn’t.

 

 

 

 

 

“Peter?  Peter, are you okay?”

Ned’s voice sounded like it had travelled a mile underwater to reach Peter.

“Should I get May?”

There was something very wrong with Peter.  It wasn’t crushing him this time; it felt like an anthill in his chest and it sounded like ringing in his ears and—

“Peter?”

May’s voice had reached him now.  Was she in the room now?  He couldn’t tell.  He didn’t even really know where he was.  He must be in his room, sitting on his bed with Ned, that’s what he could last remember, but everything looked different.  He didn’t recognise any of it at all.

“Peter, please, talk to me.”

May’s voice was pleading.  Some part of Peter’s brain that wasn’t filled with fog felt guilty for making her worry.

“Should I call Mr Stark?”

Peter shook his head.  At least, he thought he did.  If Mr Stark found out what a fucking mess Peter had become, he was going to take the suit away and people were going to die.  That couldn’t happen.

Peter reached into his pocket and took out his phone with a shaky hand.

“Matt,” he said.

Someone took the phone from him.  He heard Aunt May whisper, “who’s Matt?”  Then, he felt his phone being pressed to his ear.

“Hello, kid,” said Matt’s voice, calm and bright.  “What’s happening?”

“Everything,” Peter mumbled, taking the phone from whoever had been holding it.

He heard Matt laugh.

“Sorry,” Matt said, clearing his throat.  “I shouldn’t laugh.  I want you to close your eyes and breathe with me.  Can you do that?”

“I don’t know,” said Peter, his voice strangled and high.

“You’ve done it before,” Matt pointed out.  “I’m breathing in, two, three, four.  Out, two, three, four, five, six, seven.  In, two, three, four…”

Slowly, and surely, the noise fell away, and the ant hill in Peter’s chest went still.

“Thank you, Matt,” Peter said.

“And thank _you_ for giving me a much-needed break from my paperwork,” said Matt.  “Feel better, kiddo.”

And then he hung up.

Peter opened his eyes to see both Ned and Aunt May staring at him in concern.

“Sorry about that,” Peter said, sheepishly.  “Acid reflux, am I right?”

Ned and Aunt May just continued staring at him.

Ned was the first to break the silence.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he asked.  Then, glancing at Aunt May, “uh, sorry, May.”

“I agree with Ned,” May said.  “What the fuck, Peter?”

Peter blinked.

“Um,” he said.  “I’m really sorry if I worried you.  I’m completely fine, though.”

“Jesus, Peter,” Ned said.  “You should talk to a doctor or something.  You totally blanked out on me for like five minutes.”

“I _am_ talking to someone,” Peter said, indignantly.

“Matt?” Aunt May demanded.  “Who is this Matt, anyway?”

“A friend,” Peter replied.

Ned snorted.

“Dude,” he said.  “I’m, like, your only friend.”

Peter huffed.

“That’s not entirely true,” he said.  “MJ is also my friend.  And so is Matt.”

“Okay,” May interrupted.  “But who _is_ he?”

Peter mentally ran through a list of possible responses and chose the one that he thought was least likely to result in Aunt May yelling at him.

“He’s, like, my doctor,” Peter said.  Which was not really a lie, since Matt did patch him up that one time.  “He helps me out sometimes.”

Aunt May put her head in her hands and sat down at Peter’s desk.  It was kind of worse than her yelling at him.

“How often do you need him to… help you out?” May asked, quietly.

“Practically never,” Peter said, quickly.  “This is super rare.  I’m surprised he even—”

“Peter,” Ned interrupted.  “You’re doing that thing.”

Peter frowned.

“What thing?” he demanded.

“You’re jiggling your leg like you always do when you’re either lying or talking to Michelle.”

Peter was taken aback.

“I do not jiggle my leg when I talk to MJ!” he exclaimed, defensively.

“Boys!” May interrupted.  Then, to Peter, “answer the question or you’re grounded.”

Peter flushed.

“Like, once a week?” he said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I don’t know.  It’s been, uh…  It’s been getting worse.”

Aunt May’s shoulders slumped.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked.

 “I didn’t want you to worry,” Peter said, looking down at his feet.

Aunt May sighed.

“I’m always going to worry about you, you little idiot,” she said.  “I’d just like to know if my kid needs me to get him medical attention or therapy.  I feel like that’s not too much to ask.”

Peter smiled at May calling him “my kid”.  The feeling he got from that phrase was second only to “my boy” and when Ned called him “dude”.

“I don’t need medical attention or therapy,” Peter told her, firmly.

“Okay,” she said, standing up.  “But the _minute_ you change your mind, I’m calling Mr Stark and making him foot the bill for the most expensive therapist in Manhattan.”

“Cool,” said Peter.

“Dinner is in an hour,” she said, leaving Peter’s bedroom.  “Ned, please make sure my nephew doesn’t pass out until then.”

“Will do, May!” Ned chirped.

Then, turning to Peter, “okay, you never answered my question.”

Peter froze.

“What question?” he asked, apprehensively.

“Would you rather be Jabba the Hut’s prisoner for a week, or have to watch _The Phantom Menace_ every day for a year?”

Peter wrinkled his nose.

“Well, would I have to wear the gold bikini?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> transcharlesxavier.tumblr.com
> 
> so i'm thinking of some fun & cute parts to this series where  
> \- may demands to meet matt and they all hang out & be cute  
> \- peter and mj confront what the heck is happening between them  
> \- peter meets foggy and he and foggy and matt all hang out & be cute  
> \- ned meets matt and they are also cute
> 
> tell me ur opinions!!!!! tell me what the people (you) want!!!!!!!!!!!


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